Lost Souls
by TheOldKaiser
Summary: Just a short little story about the last moments of immortal nations
1. Holy Roman Empire

**Hello this is The Old Kaiser and this is my first story sooo, yeah. I was influenced by Bluesunkatsuri's Cross your Heart and just Hetalia- Axis powers in general, and I was bored, so i wrote this. For a word of warning, I might not update much due to my very complicated schedule but I hope you guys like it.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Hetalia- Axis powers and I never will**

The poor doomed eagle knew what was coming. He had known for a very long time. The voices had him, just as they told him his younger brother would be the one to finally unite his family. He had always been close to death, but...

To anyone who passed by him they would simply see a child dressed up as a warrior, and chuckle at him before continuing on their way. If only they knew the truth. This boy had lived for a thousand years and had seen so much. Those bright blue eyes had seen more blood and terror and death than even the self-proclaimed god of war. They had seen the fall of empires, and the death of his own family. But now they saw his own death.

His death was coming closer and closer. He could now hear the gunshots. Those terrible gunshots... His former people were coming closer and closer to kill him. His brother and his wife were freaking out attempting to pull him out of the city, but he knew it was all for naught. He had failed. He would die no matter what happened now. This war had seen to that.

He slowly walked to the nearby balcony and opened it, before a artillery shell hit the roof rendering to splinters with a flash of light. The young boy fell and fell until he landed between the warring armies.

The young boy woke up to the clinking of chains and the muttering of France. The 'meeting' proceeded on without to much trouble for the french weasel unfortunately, and the boy could feel the pain from the lost land. His vision disappeared with the few words that doomed him, "The Holy Roman Empire will be dissolved" in a flash of blinding pain and torturous agony.

He woke back up in a wagon with a cloth above his head and the love of two of his brother peering over him. He could still feel the pain, but now it was over shadowed by the sickness worming through his body. His body could feel it spreading to his heart but he still had about 4 weeks left.

The boy could only hope that his passing would not shatter Prussia anymore then he already was. He was already close to burning over and unleash hell upon earth and there was almost no one left to keep him anchored to the human world. The demon inside of his family was threatening to boil over after this war with the despicable weasel who doomed his fellow nations.

Eventually the the pain was to much, and once again he fell unconscious. Just this time to the gentle sound of Hungary's singing and the hooves of horses clattering against the shattered cobbles of the tiny path in the forest.

This was how he wished to die. In a forest hearing the birds chirping, and the rivers flowing downstream without any semblance of war and suffering around him. But he had to hold on and speak with Prussia one last time. Then he could meet his family who left before him and never see a funeral again. He could see Bavaria, Brandenburg, His father, maybe even God himself and all the wonders of the world.

 **And that is the end. If anyone really wants me to I might expand this little story to include people like Prussia and Bavaria or I might do it even if no one cares enough to read it. This is The Old Kaiser signing off.**


	2. Prussia

**Here it is even if no one cares enough to read it. The chief of all broken nations, Prussia. May he rest well in Heaven with his family. On with the story!**

 **Disclaimer: Still do not own any of these characters**

The young man dressed in the dark grays of a German officers uniform stormed the french fortification, screaming bloody murder along with his men following close behind. He was even more unique then his appearance told, as even though he was an Albino with blood red eyes. He was the incarnation of Prussia, and the self-proclaimed demon of War and Conquest. It was his time to unleash hell upon the evil world that had taken so much from him. His Family, those he once called friends, even some of his own people now fought against him.

He could see the damned french weasel and the British dog from here. They stood out from the common rabble as beacons of hope for their troops, yet to Prussia all they were are traitors who stood against him in his crusade. He was a whirlwind of death and destruction as the pitiful french troops attempted to stop him. His old blades sung and his guns were the fires of hell and heaven together.

Making his way towards France first, he yelled his challenge to his former friend and shot first. The next few minutes were an exhilarating battle against his tormentor. This was for his brother and my people, he repeated in his head, as a constant battle cry bouncing in his skull, pleading to be let out. Finally he surrendered to its will and pinned the Frenchman to the ground.

He would be the victor of this battle, and he would be the victor of all others. Already his brother's flag was being raised over the once proud city. He raised his arm to salute to the red, black and white banner, that was more red then it had been before the battle. He could feel his soldiers hunting down the fleeing cowards that had abandoned their city to him.

He would go back to fighting the remains of resistance soon, but for now he would be taking his prisoner to his leader, who while incompetent in all military matters served Prussia's revenge on the world very well.

The same young man, now dressed in a heavy winter cloak in an attempt to lessen the wrath of General Winter, was huddling around a fire in his general's command tent playing cards with the Heads of the eastern front. He knew declaring war on the Damned Russian was a bad idea right now, but no one listened to him anymore. He had fought in more wars than most of these men had lived in years, yet all he was to them was another officer.

His leader's precious SS thought themselves better than the nation, even though he was an immortal. He simple bide his time, now knowing the war was starting to turn. He knew that, but would still fight and take as many men out with him. He would sometimes wondered where he would go once he died, but he knew that he would likely find out soon.

He had little left to live for. His living family shunned him, His love was dead, His former friends wished to kill him themselves. His only reason for life was his brother, Ludwig. He was currently caught up in zealousness of his people, but knew that would change quickly when the war shifted in favor of the Russians. His only brothers/cousins left, Netherlands and Austria, were part of the resistance against Germany and had already made a few attempts to kill him. The rest were in prison, so they would not raise up his arms against him.

Under the cover of night the young Prussian snuck into the prison holding the enemy nations. The war was almost over, and he already heard the American planes fly over the city. The enemy's armies were almost on the border of Germany. He knew that the nations would be free soon, but he wasn't sure how much the sanity of Hitler had decreased of the course of the war. Before anything terrible could happen his damned heart forced him to take action.

They had looked at him with hatred evident in their eyes, until he released them. Then they were filled with suspicion. He nodded wordlessly, then turned around and walked away before they could see the tears in his eyes, hoping they still trusted him enough to run.

Now the man was tied to a chair in a courtroom. All of his enemies were seated in one room, staring at him. He was sure of what would happen, and he welcomed it. They would kill him. They already eliminated him and changed him into the state of Brandenburg. He kept his name as Prussia however, as he knew they would judge him for his actions as Prussia.

His chains clinked ominously, and he could not see his brother but could feel him tied to a chair behind his. He slightly wondered why he was still alive, wondered why he was not already with his family . Shrugging, he realized they just wished for him to suffer as long as he could. It was the same reason why he being given to Russia. Everyone hated him, besides the Dead and Ludwig.

In the end he died peacefully yet in pain, with those who still hated him watching him. He had attempted to befriend some of them, but as always most of them refused him. He was expecting it, yet it still hurt. He was slowly dieing and was forced to attend 'World Meetings' which were a vain attempt to keep the peace. As long as life continued there would be wars. They were a useless gesture yet the foolish world believed in it.

He died a day after his 1,000th birthday. He had seen more than any man. He had seen the blood of million. The rise of empires. The fall of Empires. The Invention of Gunpowder weapons. The first robots. The colonization of new worlds. He closed his blood red eyes for the last time, and his nation mourned for him, even though he never knew they loved him.

At last he could see his family again. All expect Ludwig had died before him, during the beginning of the German-run European Union that made nations into one superpower. He could see Brandenburg again, and maybe continue what they had before she had died. May the dead would accept him.

And so a tale filled with blood and pain finally ended. He had believed he could do great things once, he could lead his people with kindness. He was rejected upon every twist and turn, and was shattered in every way possible. There were times where he was beginning to be accepted but in the end he made a one fatal mistake. His mistake was trusting others.

Trusting others to fight along side him.

Trusting others with his secrets.

Trusting others with his emotions.

And above every thing else he made the mistake of trusting others to love him.

The grinder that is life spit him out a new person. He became jaded and cynical. A master of arms. A God of War incarnate. But in the end he was still just Prussia. His chains holding him back from death slowly broke, until the eagle fell. A things must die, and he was no different. The proud black eagle took one finally breath, then he finally perished. He was born and powered with the flames of war, thus peace was his end.

Even gods may die, and he did just that. He was once a man of steel, then he began to rust away. Every death rusted him more and more. Finally the last of the steel was melted, and a fiery inferno was unleashed. He let loose one final war that almost destroyed the world, under a banner of red, black and white. In the end his fire died down, and was never lit again.

 **So, how did you guys like it? I had a lot to draw inspiration from, especially Cross your Heart and Hope to die, since most of that is about him. If I do end up extending this more it may be The Roman Empire next, or perhaps The U.K. You guys tell me in the Review section if you want to read more, and which country i should do next.**


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